


Wild At Spark

by Lady_Avarice



Series: Born to be Wild [1]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, FanFiction.Net, Ferals, M/M, Multi, Wild Sparks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-08 14:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/762173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Avarice/pseuds/Lady_Avarice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago there were many different types of Cybertronian, not just the ground runners and seekers. Unfortunately many of them were killed off early on in the war. But then again, you know what they say about assumptions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The silvery protoform was covered in a fine layer or lunar dust to hide it from prying eyes. It had found its way to the natural satellite ages ago after running from a dying Cybertron. The journey hadn't been easy and it hadn't been straight. Small damages accumulated and upon reaching the planet was too damaged to survive the decent.

So it had landed on the Moon and slipped into stasis.

It had learned the art of remaining unnoticed before its second frame was fully settled. A fact that was reinforced when it woke and saw a rather large footprint in the lunarscape barely two feet from its aft.

That would have been a horrible way to be exposed, being stepped on by an over sized mech, and a heavy one if the ped-print was anything to go by. Hiding on the shadow-line covered in dust had been a very good idea.

It had woken in time to view the battle between the Autobots and the Decepticons over the humans' satellite network.

And saw him.

-He's here!-

-Danger?-

-Don't care. Sparkbond.-

-AllSpark gone?-

_Don't care. Sparkbond!-

-Danger!-

-Don't care. SPARKBOND!-

-Danger! Hunt!-

-Don't care! **SPARKBOND** is worth **ANYTHING**!-

And really, there was nothing those instincts could say to that.

It was many more months before the form was able to move freely again, the stasis having released when most of the repairs were done. It had consumed what minerals it could from the lunar surface, replenishing its stores and moving to the light side when it could to absorb additional energy. It watched as Autobots and Decepticons alike made landfall on the planet, but no others like itself.

Stepping into full light for the first time in vorns the form shook off the lunar dust and started for the planet, aiming for the desert by the city called Mission. He wouldn't move on too soon from that site, not if the information it had gathered proved true.

They were a pack of two now, but it would be enough to be pack again.

The protoform slid its cometary shielding into place as it touched the atmosphere, beginning the decent burn.

It wouldn't be long now.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Optimus!"

"What is it, Blaster?"

"We've got a set of landfalls. One is prowl and the Twins, another is headed down about 300 miles from where they'll land."

"Do we have any info on the other one?"

"Negative. And I'm getting reports that one of the trio is injured. If it weren't for the signal getting out while it shifted forms we wouldn't even have known it was there."

"No choice then. Ironhide, Ratchet, Mirage and Cliffjumper will go meet Prowl and the Twins. Hound will remain here with us to keep the base secure as it can be. We can't risk sending out a lone bot to see to the other landfall and we can't leave just one bot here by himself. We'll just have to hope that whoever that bot is can survive and hide."

"Understood, Sir."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

This was not as close as it would have liked, but it was infinitely closer than the surface of the planet's natural satellite. A few hundred miles were nothing compared to that.

There was a rumbling nearby, and a screech in the air.

Not Autobots.

Decepticons.

The form rose from its cometary form, getting its limbs in order even as its scanner picked an appropriate form nearby. Looking over the features and information it could attain about the form it was quite perfect.

Very fitting.

Changes settling into place it shook, sending dust into a thick cloud around it.

Things were about to get interesting.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Barricade, have you found the site yet?"

"No sir, though it should be close."

A plume of sand and dust rose from the desert landscape, making the landing obvious to anyone looking.

"No chance for it to pick a vehicle mode, I want that bot brought in immediately. If he's one of ours we'll need to get Hook to fix what he can. If not, bring him in online, but not necessarily undamaged."

"Yes, sir."

Barricade chafed at having to follow Starscream of all mechs. He was a glory-seeking fool.

But he could still kill Barricade if he chose, and far too easily at present.

Soundwave had been sent with him, along with a few of his symbiotes. They were more than enough to deal with any mech just out of cometary form. Skidding to a stop on the road by the crater he slid into his bipedal form and stalked over, careful of the shifting sand.

"Soundwave, can one of your symbiotes go down there and see what's going on?"

"Affirmative."

One compartment slid open. Ravage landed lightly enough and started for the thick dust cloud.

The two larger bots watched as the cat-like bot vanished into the cloud of sand, maintaining contact via comm.

A rattle of metal plating and kibble sounded and the dust cloud grew thicker and billowed out further.

The bot was alive and relatively unharmed if it was shaking off the landing dust. Still, it had to be in protoform and there for weaker.

This shouldn't take long.

Barricade let his attention wander a bit to past fights, analyzing his reactions and his opponents. Being in the right frame of processor for a fight could decide things before they started. Not that he really expected one.

Both bots stood stock still as a sudden sound reached them from the cloud.

"Did Ravage say what that was?"

"Negative. Communications with Casseticon Ravage, down."

Suddenly something was flung at them from the dust cloud.

Ravage landed with a clatter near his creator. His armor was torn and rent, dents in his hide, one leg dangling useless, and the 'ear' that held his communications relay was gone.

"Need to leave! NOW!"

A menacing snarl sounded from within the dust cloud. Both Decepticons turned, optics watching for any sign of movement.

The faint clanking of metal joints moving and shifting reached their audios. A dark form started to show through the settling dust, moving smoothly, as large as one of the humans' transportation drones.

The snarl sounded again, two green-gold optics lit up through the dust.

Followed by energon blades on what passed for its teeth and claws.

"Retreat! NOW!"

Ravage had managed to get his feet under him, unsteady and unbalanced from the damage he'd taken.

"It's a **FERAL**!!!"

Taking a running leap he was back to his compartment.

Soundwave shifted to his alt almost immediately after.

The frontliner stood and stared at the new bot with narrowed optics.

The… bot, because it couldn't be a Feral, Megatron had offlined them all, stared back at him and made an odd sort of chittering howl.

It was laughing at him.

With a snarl he launched at the figure only to miss, vocalizers screeching in pain the next moment when energon edged fangs bit into and tore one of his hydraulics.

He barely managed to keep it from taking a chunk out of his leg as it turned for another assault.

After that it was one frantic move after another until he managed to push it away with a ped, quickly changing to his alt mode and roaring off down the road towards the main base, that eerie laughing howl seeming to follow him.

Maybe it was a Feral after all.


	2. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That is SO not the rabbit hole."

_~*~several months later~*~_

"You sure he'll be around here?"

"Yes, Prowl worked all the numbers and this is where everything overlaps."

"Who do you think it is?"

"No idea. Fighter though. Have to be with the amount of damage Barricade and Ravage took if our Intel is correct."

"True enough. How are we going to find the slagger, though? The rock here's too dense to scan through and there's bolt holes everywhere!"

"And you wonder why we don't let you do the long-term stuff."

Hound chuckled at the look the younger bot sent him and started looking for signs of a small Cybertronian in the canyon.

Well, small by their standards, about as large as an Earth vehicle, but still.

Neither Autobot realized that they'd been heard.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was amusing watching those two try to find something. Because, seriously, that one was flipping over rocks.

Granted, they'd almost found it when it clamped its derma shut as hard as it could to stifle the laughter that wanted to burst out. Honestly!

"I'm going over this way, I'll stay in comm. distance.'

"Comm distance is to the moon, Jolt."

Ah, so that was the blue one's designation.

There was a definite vent of frustration and irritation there. "Within the parameters of that treaty thing Optimus signed."

"Just making sure you're specific."

"Specific does not imply stupid."

"Touché."

"Meet back here in 20 breems?"

"We've got to get you used to human time units. Agreed, two hours, forty five minutes."

The blue one vented and wandered off towards the outer edges of the canyon, the army green one going deeper.

The blue one wouldn't find anything. The green, dusty one though… he looked like he knew what he was doing.

Slag it.

Ah well, it was going to get found sooner or later, better by these guys. There were only so many times you could surprised the Cons before they figured that part out and you were fragged and/or had to leave the planet in a hurry. Now that it had found him, leaving was NOT an option.

So that meant going down and, hopefully, not getting shot at or overly snarked.

Snark and bigotry could be dealt with in small doses, however Wild temperament had never been the most even.

Well, that and coming from FireFly certainly didn't help things. Good memory files.

Being fired at guaranteed that the fangs would get used. Never good for a first meeting. For the other bots anyway.

Hmm, maybe that voice box glitch could get fixed though. Provided their medic wasn't an aft anyway. Worse to worse it could just wait until he showed up. They'd done basic stuff for each other before and their Creators had downloaded what they could into each of them.

A small grin on its derma the form rose, not bothering to shake off the accumulated dessert dust and started picking its way down the cliff side.

A soft rumbling and a sudden spurt of dust from one part of the canyon caught its attention.

So much for the green one knowing how to look.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Well slag it."

This would teach him to get relaxed just because no bot was firing on him. Fragging hidden cave roofs.

Now he was down a rather deep hole, Jolt was off somewhere, the stone was too thick to comm. through and his leg was a mess.

Ratchet was going to weld his aft plates to the ceiling for this.

"Buddy, I don't know why you're trying to imitate Alice, but that is SO not the rabbit hole."

The voice was odd, dual toned as if speaking through two voice processors at once.

Looking up he was greeted with the grinning face of what appeared to be a grey fox.

"So, you got a tow line I can use to help get your aft outta there?"

"Sweet Primus you're a…"

"Wild Spark, yeah I know. Now, tow line?"

Hound could only stare as the car sized grey fox easily climbed down the side of the hole, grinning as it watched him try to get his processors working again.

Maybe he really had fallen down the rabbit hole.


	3. Murphy's Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> doesn't just apply to humans.

Hound was understandably off balance. Physically, yes, with his leg rather impressively mangled, but also mentally with what this one Cybertronian could mean for them all.

"Hey, do I need to look for your online button or are you actually processing the words coming out of my mouth."

Cheeky glitch.

"Don't start."

Hound stared in shock. This mech could read minds like Soundwave!?

"Heh, just know that look. Now, tow cable or I'm going to haul you up there like a dog with a particularly good bone, tooth marks and all."

That brought his attention to the rather impressive set of alloy fangs lining the bot's mouth.

"Right, sorry."

"No problem. Processor freeze is a bit understandable."

It took some creative looping and knots but eventually he managed to make a sort of harness out of the tow cable he had with him. The loop end went under his arms and the other looped around the new arrival's forelegs. Without asking the bot sidled up and let him lean as he got to his peds and wobbled to the easiest wall to climb.

"Are you sure you can take my mass? I'm a fair bit bigger than you.'

"No big deal. I'm a lot tougher than I look."

"All right then, I'll try not to make this any more difficult than it has to be."

The bot gave a nod and started making its way easily up the wall. He was surprised when he realized the bot actually was helping bear his weight as it moved upwards, pulling him and barely showing any sign of effort.

For a small bot that was fairly impressive.

"I know I've got a nice aft, but you really don't need to stare."

Hound felt his face plates heat up as he realized just where his optics had landed while he thought.

At least the twins hadn't heard that comment, he'd never live it down!

"Can I ask what happened to your voice?"

"Got into a fight I wasn't too sure I could win. Was trying to help a femme and her sparkling get away from a Con, got a set of claws to my voice processor relays for my trouble."

"Were they able to get away?"

The long silence was more telling than he'd like.

"There was an explosion in one of the nearby buildings. They never saw what hit them, offlined instantly. The aft with his claws in my neck shielded me from the blast."

"Primus must love irony."

"Probably."

"It is better that they offlined rather than be captured. I wouldn't wish what the Cons do to sparklings and femmes on the Unmaker."

"…. Me neither."

After that Hound let the silence stay, pushing back memories he'd rather not have. War changed everyone, and he knew from time working with the Wild ones back on Cybertron that all of them were heavily family oriented and viewed sparklings as the most precious things in creation. He was surprised the bot had stayed sane.

"Ok, just try to push as much as you can, and keep yourself from snagging."

Hound was brought out of his thoughts as he was suddenly tugged up faster than he expected, toppling over the lip of the hole. The bot had the tow line in its mouth, pulling steadily backwards until he was completely clear before letting it go.

"You good to call your allies, or do I need to go find Little Bot Blue?"

Hound tried unsuccessfully to hide a grin at the nickname.

"I'll need Jolt to call the base. My comm was damaged when I fell. I'd rather not bring the Cons down on our heads."

"Good point so where is… SLAG!"

Hound didn't have time to question the curse as he was tackled to the ground, a thud sounding somewhere behind him by the time he was let back up.

There was a smoking crater with what was obviously a protoform unfolding. His 'rescuer' was standing slightly in front and to the side of him, ears back and snarling as it unfolded.

"Get your gun out."

"What?"

"Con!"

The form finished unfolding itself to reveal a Seeker, already armored with earth-alt kibble. It was mostly undamaged from the impact, its own gun falling into its hand.

"An Autobot and a would-be Feral. Primus must be smiling on me to give me such sport."

In response the fox-bot growled louder, showing a set of sharp fangs that were starting to glow with energon.

"I think you will be first, Feral. Your kind should know its place, offline."

The gun turned and fired before Hound could get his own weapon up. Rather than seeing a sparkles shell there was only blackened sand where not a moment before the bot had stood.

"Seekers were oathed to protect sparklings. Seekers destroyed sparklings. Your kind are nothing but _oath-breakers_!"

That title enraged the mech, turning his countenance from detached amusement to fury.

With an inarticulate snarl he brought his weapon round again, firing even as the Wild Spark moved. Claws glowing with energon ate up the distance between Seeker and Wild in a few scant sparkbeats.

Hound could only watch as the much smaller Wild took a running leap, landing on the wing of the Seeker and dug its claws in, rending deep tears in the sensitive hide. The Seeker screeched in pain, dropping the gun to rip the smaller bot from its wing, making the claws tear more as it was removed. In a flurry of movement the Wild spun and landed on its feet against the side of the canyon, moving before the Seeker's claws ripped into the rock where it had been not a nanosecond earlier. It wasn't obvious, despite the huge size difference, but the Seeker was losing as the Wild kept attacking from unexpected directions, claws and fangs tearing into lines and through armored hide, leaving energon to run down the Seeker's frame and into the sand below.

The Wild was thrown off again after tearing a deep gash near the Seeker's cockpit, charging straight back towards it as soon as it landed, the few cuts on its pelt hardly slowing it down. Hound only just noticed the Seeker un-subspace something, optics widening as he realized what it was.

"Look out!"

The warning came a split second too late as the Seeker whirled, tossing the ring in its hand at the Wild. Before it could dodge the ring honed in and latched around the Wild's neck, causing it to cry out in shock and pain as the collar dug in and started to deliver a virus to the Wild's system. The force of the impact with the ring caused it to fly back over him.

Even then the Wild only let it win for a moment, shaking slightly as it rose to its feet, optics shining bright in fury. The snarl that came from its derma shook Hound to his spark, and he knew the Wild one was trying to protect him.

"Get away from him!"

The Seeker and the Wild had been so involved in their fight that they hadn't noticed the blue figure get close. In the same instance two electric whips snapped forward. One hit the Seeker on the wing, crossing a batch of deep claw marks and making him howl in pain.

The other seemed to be guided by Murphy's Law. It snapped towards the Wild hitting and tangling with the ring around its neck. The thing popped and crackled even as the bot thrashed and cried out in pain. The Seeker used the distraction to get free of the whip and take off.

"Tell that Feral I'll enjoy the hunt!"

Jolt had pulled the whip free finally and looked ready to make another strike at what he thought was an enemy.

"Stop! He's an ally. Contact the base and tell them to send Ratchet up with Ironhide and Prowl or Mirage."

The younger mech stood down, a look of confusion on his faceplates as he carried out the orders.

Hound vented softly, looking at the still form of the Wild one. Now that the bot was still he could see the scratches dotting its pelt and the burns from the whip and collar. He had a bad feeling that the Wild bot would have kept fighting until either he or the Seeker was permanently offline.

"I can only pray that Ratchet knows enough to help fix you."

"Hound?"

"That bot probably saved my spark, Jolt. Patch what you can until Ratch gets here."

Looking startled and no little bit guilty he carefully moved to the downed bot's side, pulling line sealant from his subspace and applying it where he could see leaks.

It wasn't soon enough for either bot when the small convoy finally arrived an hour later.


	4. Chapter 4

"Slag."

"For once we agree."

Ironhide and Ratchet were watching over the Wild Spark in the med bay. Hound had been easy enough to fix up after getting his leg to bend the proper direction again.

The Wild Spark was a different story.

The damage was minimal for the most part, but plating and armor couldn't be moved thanks to the collar. The virus had done its job of locking the Wild one in its organic alt form and making any removal impossible. Ordinarily Ratchet could remove the collar after applying an appropriate antiviral to the Wild's system and cutting through it with his saw while the bot was in recharge. Jolt's electric whip had complicated matters. The collar had fused in some places and chipped in others. The effect the electrical surge had on the bot's internal systems was unknown and removal was going to take a great deal of research and checking before it could even be attempted.

"The fact that the collar delivered its virus to the transformation circuits and communications before the shock hit isn't going to help things."

"No slagging kidding. If we're lucky the bit that makes them go into Rage was destroyed."

"It was, I checked that right after checking his vitals. His auto repair should take care of a great deal of these problems, but I can't check the internal damage with him stuck like this. And what I know about repairing Wild Sparks can be coded to fit on a human computer."

Both bots vented heavily at the conundrum.

"You know if 'Bee finds out about there being a Wild Spark on base that was injured by one of our own he's going to go ballistic."

"Don't remind me. That would be the end of that secret."

"Slag. I still can't figure if it was a good idea or a bad one to keep it from the others that he's a Wild carrier."

"Bigotry is, unfortunately, not just limited to the Cons. While not as bad, some bots still think they're inferior or little better than drones. He didn't deserve to grow up in an environment like that."

Ironhide just gave a small grunt, obviously still debating it with himself.

"It was Prime's call."

"I know. I just hope we don't regret it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Were the others able to ID that Seeker?"

"Yes, it was Thundercracker."

"Pit, you were lucky you got out of that one alive!"

"You don't have to tell me that."

Thundercracker was known for taking malicious delight in drawing out the offlining of his opponents as long as possible. The stories of what he'd done to some of the Wilds that hadn't been caught by Megatron were enough to cause nightmares in battle hardened bots.

"I still can't figure out why that Wild defended you, though."

Hound vented softly. He seemed to be doing that a lot today.

"All Wilds are rather firm when they decide to either allying themselves with somebot or call one an enemy. Obviously, Cons are enemies, no matter what."

Jolt shuddered slightly, remembering some of what he'd seen at demolished fighting rings. The sparkless shells of bots strewn about and torn to shreds. It was impossible to tell what limb belonged with which body.

"Simply put by the humans 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.' Even if he didn't know me the Wild trusted me enough to know that Cons are my enemy and we'd stand a better chance of surviving if we fought together, for all the good I did."

"So he protected you because you aren't a Con? That's it?"

"Essentially, yes. Wilds follow their instincts, and that instinct is hardwired into each and every one, no exceptions."

"And that collar?"

"Nasty Con device that delivers several viruses to a Wild's system and locks them in their organic alt form. The viruses lock the transformation sequences, shut down any and all communication outside what their alt would naturally make, and slowly but surely drive them into a Rage state until they attacked anything and anybot near them."

Jolt winced at the description, it was a bad thing to get stuck in alt form, but not being able to talk to anyone or get help while slowly going insane was a nightmare.

"Is there a way to remove it?"

"Usually yes, but with the… complications I don't know what's going to happen."

The blue bot winced again, knowing he was partially at fault for the new bot's condition.

"We never got a chance to find out his designation, did we?"

"Slag, hope he won't mind a temporary one."

Both bots suddenly tensed, optics going to the door as a crash sounded from down the hallway.

"What was that?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~*~a few minutes earlier~*~

"'Hide, come here and hold his leg in this position. There's something odd about his chest."

"Ya really think you should be doing that, Ratch?" Most bots were extremely uncomfortable having their chests touched or examined since that was where their sparks were.

"Yes, if it's a problem I need to fix it now, not later."

Venting the moved to hold the indicated leg up and still while Ratchet ran hands and scanners over the Wild's chest.

Both were so involved in checking for damage they didn't notice the first twitch that signaled the bot coming back online.

They didn't miss the second.

"FRAG!" Ironhide held one hand to his face over a deep scratch left by the Wild's flailing legs as Ratchet tried unsuccessfully to restrain it before it ran out the door.

"Quick, don't let him leave the base!"

Bots peeked out from doors as the yells of Ratchet and Ironhide sounded off the halls. The Wild ran, panicked and acting on instinct, dodging hands that grabbed at it before darting into one open door with no bots leaning out.

It stopped cold as it faced two bots, hackles rising as it turned to run back out only to find the way blocked by the one who'd been holding it when it woke.

Snarling, ears flat against its head it started to back away, slowly coming to a stop when it was cornered.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

-Danger-danger-danger-hunted-danger-danger-danger.-

Instincts were running rampant, logic rejected and ignored, pain high but not unbearable.

-Out-out-out-hunted-out.-

-Can't be caught, can't be taken, won't be taken.-

It barreled along the halls, slipping through grips meant to catch and keep, trying to find the outside. Outside meant room. Outside meant it had a chance.

Getting caught meant pain-torture-death.

It refused to get caught.

-Open!-

It dashed through the doorway only to be confronted by the forms of two confused mechs. It knew them somehow but couldn't remember in its present state of panic and instinct. Giving a snarl in warning it turned to dash only to be blocked by the ones who had been trying to get into its chest before. Snarling it backed away only to find itself cornered.

It growled, hackles raised.

If need be it would fight to the death.

Permanent offlining was preferable to capture.

"This isn't good."

Four bots stood still, eying the Wild Spark as it growled at them. Ironhide looked like he'd love nothing more than to shoot him while Ratchet watched, trying to figure out how to catch hold and administer a tranq. Jolt looked confused and Hound watched it all with concern.

"Hey-guys,is-that-one-of-Wheeljack's-drones? I-thought-only-Wilds-had-green-optics?"

And everything exploded into chaos.

Ratchet lunged even as the Wild tried to use the distraction Bluestreak caused to dart out, Ironhide moved faster than expected, causing the Wild to bounce painfully off one thickly armored hand and into Hound and Jolt. It scrabbled to get loose from the tangle of limbs even as the two mechs tried to free themselves and Ratchet shouted for them to hold still.

"What is going on here?"

For all his size Optimus Prime still managed to be stealthy when he wanted to.

The Wild kicked itself loose and backed away from the bots, hackles up and growling in warning.

To the others' surprise their leader knelt slowly and offered one hand palm up. A low, melodic tone issued from his voice processors. Several tense minutes later the Wild's hackles lowered, ears perking forward a bit in curiosity, though still wary.

"Wild Spark, I offer you sanctuary. You are free to wander where you may and still find haven here. As leader of this pack, this family, I swear this on my spark."

The Wild seemed to finally relax, leaning forward to delicately sniff at the offered hand. When Optimus moved to touch the Wild's side he permitted it, causing the Autobots to let out a vent of relief.

"Are you lucid again?"

"Yezzzzzz." The voice was grating, more growl than vocal, but it was understandable. Ratchet's brow plates rose.

"It sounds like the communications part of the virus hasn't taken full effect yet. Can we ask your designation?"

There was a rumbling sound and a few growls before the Wild gave up and shook it's head.

"Then perhaps, we can offer you a temporary one?"

"Perhaps _WildStrike_? It certainly suits you from what I saw of your fighting style." Hound spoke up from the opposite side of the room.

The Wild seemed to think it over before its mouth moved into what could only be a smile.

"Ggrrrriiiike."

Optimus gave his own smile.

"Then welcome to the base, WildStrike."


	5. Memory of Loss

"Alright everyone, settle down. We need to go over this information."

"What's going on Optimus?"

The large bot looked to the platform where a few humans were sitting. Major Lennox and Sarah, Epps, and Secretary Keller were all seated comfortably and looking a bit confused, if not resigned, to the latest oddity that came with dealing with the Autobots.

He looked over the assembled bots, noting who was absent. At least six bots were absent rom the base on various missions and guard posts. The fewest bots he could spare. It would have to do.

"A few days ago Hound and Jolt ran into a Decepticon as it landed, a Seeker named Thundercracker. Hound found another bot before the landing that defended him when the Seeker attacked. This is about the bot he found, or should I say found him."

"The bot that Hound brought back with him is a Wild Spark. Before he retreated Thundercracker managed to hit him with a viral collar, locking him in his alt and making communication outside of yes and no questions nearly impossible."

"Wild Spark? You mean it's a different kind of bot from you or those winged menaces?"

"Yes Will. At one time there were many different types of Cybertronian, not just the Seekers, Flyers and Ground Runners you've met. Wild Sparks, or Untamed Sparks were told of in stories as Primus' last transition from organic to mechanical life. The few organic beings that were left were given a chance to change, become like the mechanical life forms. Those organics became the Wild ones. The Decepticons also call them Ferals, but do not under any circumstances call WildStrike a Feral. It would be like calling Sgt Epps a 'nigger'."

From the rapid darkening of their expressions the example had been accurate.

"In the early days of the war, Megatron tried to gather as many of them as he could. When none would join his cause he started to hunt them down while spreading talk of how 'vicious' and 'unpredictable' they were. One of the best known of the slain was a Wild named WarWolf. He was a melee weapons specialist, his energy blades were second to none. His mate was FireFly, a Ground Runner craftsfemme known for her intricate detail work and deceptively light looking femme frames. She also served as a medic aide from time to time."

"Pfft, femme threw a mean drill."

Optimus treated Ratchet to a small smile before continuing, a hologram of two Cybertronians appearing before the group. One was obviously a mech and the Wild if the muzzle, ears/audios and tail were any indication, pitch black in color with pale green optics. The femme was a rich orange color with gold edges, tall and slender in a way that would have been considered willowy for a human, with deep blue optics.

"Together, they created two sparklings, originally designated Buzzer and Radar. They had decided to separate when the war began, to try and keep their small family alive when Megatron started to actively hunt, capture, and destroy any Wilds he found. We're not sure how he found out where they were hiding but the results were… devastating."

The air seemed to shimmer for a moment before the scene solidified. Gleaming metal buildings circled a gleaming circle where bots of every size, color and construct meandered, going about their business. Some looked relatively similar to the Autobots gathered, others looked like crosses between robots and insects, or mammals. One even looked like a cross between a robot and dolphin.

Two mechs approached, the larger holding a sparkling in bright yellow primary armor with blue optics, still in its first frame. One was obviously WarWolf. The other mech was a Ground Runner, wheels forming his elbow and ankle joints

"Have you decided on a second designation for him yet?"

"No, not yet. Though we did for our first sparkling. Little trouble-maker's getting its third frame today."

"Are you ever going to let me know what gender your first is?"

"Yup. Same time we do everyone else."

"And here I thought I was your best friend."

"You are. FireFly insisted we wait until the sparkling was settled into its new frame first."

"She's really got your aft in a vice, doesn't she?"

"You want to dodge her barrage if she finds out I told you?"

"Ah… no, no never mind."

"Thought so."

The little sparkling seemed amused by the mechs and chirped at them, making WarWolf laugh, a sound like whuffing air and a mechanical chirp.

"You're excited, aren't you? Get to see your sibling soon and help wear in that shiny new frame? Get it all scuffed up so that 'Fly either has to laugh or growl so you can use those botling-optics on her and get her all melty?"

The sparkling seemed to laugh and agree, little doorwings making a buzzing sound as it moved them around, reaching up to its mech-creator.

"Ha! Little bot's learning fast. And I can see why you decided on Buzzer for its sparkling designation, very suiting. Did you tell Radar what its new designation is?"

"Yup. And nice try but the only part you'll get form me is that it's as fitting for it as WarWolf is for me."

"Well at least I can work through some canine forms then."

"FireFly made it up."

"Slag it!"

"'Ag et!"

The bots stopped, looking at the beaming sparkling in WarWolf's arms, both looking mildly horrified while the tiny bot just beamed proudly.

"I am not taking the blame for him knowing that phrase."

"I'm taking an off-planet mission as soon as possible."

"Good instincts."

"Greetings Feral WarWolf! Lord Megatron sends his regards."

The mechs stopped, WarWolf handing his sparkling to the other bot before moving in front of them, ears back and a snarl on his muzzle. The other mech was slowly backing away, heading towards a building. There was no need for the sparkling to see this.

"What do you want?"

The look on the mech's face was a smile that sent shivers down the humans' spines. There was absolutely no mirth in it, only glee and pain.

"On such an auspicious day Lord Megatron thought you deserved a gift. Here it is!"

The air around the bots shimmered, creating a screen rather than an entire environment. The rest of the bots in the square stopped as well, watching at the unexpected public broadcast.

_The scene settled on a different square, the bright figure of FireFly standing protectively in front of her sparkling, obviously not yet in its third frame and very much a Wild with smaller imitations of WarWolfs ears and tail and bright green optics. From the looks of things they had been stopped right outside the building by the mechs surrounding them. They were obviously Decpeitcons, proudly showing their insignia, all larger than the femme and all seeming to enjoy the look of fear on her faceplates._

" _What the frag do you want!?"_

" _Lord Megatron offers you a choice, femme. Denounce the Ferals and join his ranks or die."_

" _Go frag yourselves you Pit spawned spark of a glitch!"_

_Before they could react to her cursing her weapon was out, shooting and offlining one of the bots before he could do more than look surprised. The square exploded into action, the mechs doing their best to inflict damage while FireFly shot at anything that came too close. Even the sparkling changed into its base organic alt and snapped at any ankle joists it could reach, felling one when it tore through a hydraulic line._

_In the end it only delayed the inevitable. One mech got a hold on the sparkling's leg and tried to pull it out from behind FireFly._

" _Abomination! You'll be one less smear on the perfection of Cybertron!"_

" _DON'T TOUCH MY SPARKLING!"_

_FireFly shot the bot in the face, offlining him instantly even as she pulled her sparkling close, shielding it with her body. By now the damage to her was massive, energon leaking from torn and missing armor._

" _Last chance femme, come now and we'll make the sparkling's end quick."_

" _Go frag yourself!"_

_She turned, presenting her back to the mech as he shot, taking it directly in her back and rupturing her spark chamber. A flash of light and it was gone, her body slumping to the ground below. One hand of the sparkling she'd been holding could be seen. It trembled for a moment before switching from a metallic paw to a tiny hand. The remaining mechs jeered before moving off, one commenting on getting two with one shot, leaving the forms where they fell._

WarWolf watched at the recording ended, a look of horror on his faceplates.

"The Feral died quicker than I'd have liked, but at least that's one less smear."

The Decepticon was sneering, watching as WarWolf tried to process what he'd just seen. By now the civilians had moved back to the surrounding buildings, trying to take shelter as more and more Decpeticons moved in.

"Of course carriers have to be dealt with as well."

WarWolf's optics widened in horror before one of the buildings exploded, collapsing in on itself.

The building where the mech and sparkling had gone.

"NO!"

The Decepticon laughed.

"Will you give in quietly now?"

He was startled when a low growl came from the Wild. When he saw WarWolf's optics he suddenly wished he was anywhere but right in front of him.

Pale green had darkened to something nearly black and his black paint seemed darker, absorbing any light.

WarWolf threw his head back and howled, long and loud even as his body shifted and warped. Wicked blades sprung up along his back and from his elbows and heels. Fur seemed to sprout all along his body as limbs rearranged into a creature that did not look too different from a wolf. Massive canines glowed softly even as the same glow spread to the blades that had sprung along his body and the claws that were gripping the metal ground.

When his optics met the Decepticons again there was no sentience left in them, only pain and shattering loss.

What followed could only be described as a massacre. There had to have been over a hundred 'cons in the square by the time WarWolf had finished shifting.

Not a one of them survived.

Limbs were torn off, energon flying from gouges, cuts and savage bites. No matter what damage he took none of it seemed to get through the Rage that had wrapped itself around the distraught bot.

When the fighting was over WarWolf was a mess of cuts and energon, one leg completely missing. Sitting back on his haunches he howled again, the sound a mix of wolf song and a strange humming sound that could only be Cybertronian, beautiful and heart-shattering.

Then he fell, there was a flash of light…

And his spark was gone.

* * *

No one had noticed the slight figure slip through the door at the beginning of Optimus' speech. Just as silently it slipped back out while the others tried to process what they'd seen. Questions exploded as the door shut behind it, and it was sure Sarah Lennox didn't know she was crying even as she gripped her husband's hand hard enough to break it.

It padded out of the base and into the dessert, letting the cool dessert air ruffle its pelt. It was a good feeling, calming.

It ran for a few miles, letting the motion do its work to help clear its processors.

A large rock jutted out of the ground, angled up at the waning moon. The view from the top afforded a glimpse at a city, miles beyond, lights glowing softly in the distance. It sat on its haunches, letting the wind ruffle its pelt and blow in its ears.

Then WildStrike leaned back, tilted its head back to the sky and howled. The sound was a mix of whale song, wolf cry and Cybertronian harmonics, utterly beautiful and painful, letting the sky know its hurt and its loss.

Hound moved away. WildStrike's grief was his own.

Another howl split the night and the scout shivered.

But he didn't think he'd ever forget that sound.

* * *

~*~miles away~*~

Something was teasing his processors even as he tried to shake off post-recharge grogginess.

Barely at the edge of his audio range he heard it.

-Sad-pain-alone-loss-alone-

_Sparkbond?_


	6. Lacking Thumbs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is just annoying.

The bots on base were slightly confused the next day. WildStrike avoided a fair number of them, seeming to hunker in the shadows or vanish entirely for hours before popping back up again.

"Maybe he doesn't want pity."

"What makes you say that, Will?"

Will Lennox watched the whole odd dance from his position on Ironhide's shoulder.

"Well with ears like that he's libel to hear things better than most."

"That's preposterous. All Cybertronians have a preset limit to audio recept…"

Ironhide trailed off as WildStrike waved a paw from across the, rather noisy, base yard.

Will smirked. "Was I right about the hearing?"

Ironhide did a fair impersonation of 'gobsmacked' as the Wild nodded.

"You knew him?"

The Wild's expression fell a bit, another nod.

Will didn't say anything else, just gave a sharp military salute before relaxing again.

It took a moment before WildStrike seemed to figure out what the gesture meant. He treated the two to a smile before hiding again from a group of well-meaning Autobots.

Ironhide just glanced to the human on his shoulder.

"Told you so."

The walking armory growled.

* * *

"Has anyone seen WildStrike? I need to perform a scan and he needs a recharge, preferably in an actual recharge chamber."

"I don't think you're going to get that one to submit to a scan, Ratchet."

Optimus wondered if his medic might also be a carrier. He was doing the caged-tiger pace rather well.

"What!? Why not!?"

"From what I remember, Wilds are very careful about who they let near their internals, let alone their sparks. There were enough of the wrong kind of mech, even before the war, that it fueled that instinct. Think about it, Ratchet. He's been alone for Primus knows how long, relying on himself and I'm willing to bet that after that first shot of the War was fired not one mech has seen him out of his alt mode."

Huffing softly he leaned back into what passed for his chair.

"If we're lucky he may agree to a basic surface scan and minor repairs. It will be a long time before he's really willing to trust any of us."

The medic had stopped his pacing to stare at Optimus. For a long moment he simply continued to stare as his processor tried to absorb everything his leader had told him. Then he slumped.

"Slag it."

OPtimus treated his friend to a small smile which was returned.

The peace of the moment was ended when the sound of confused yelling reached their audios.

"What the slag?"

The two glanced at the door, then each other, and bolted to the main yard.

* * *

Hound, Bluestreak and Ironhide watched as Wildstrike paced back and forth. Under the accumulated dust and grime they could see that the Wild's coloring was changing.

And if the growls could be correctly translated as curses and swears, it was completely unintentional.

"What's going on out here!?"

The Wild startled and snarled at the suddenly still mechs for a moment before sorting itself out and huffing. Giving a soft rumble Wildstrike lowered his head and started pacing again, growling a little softer.

"His color is changing out of his control, Sir. The collar snapped and then his coloring started to shift."

"Hmm, sounds like that virus managed another stage."

"What are you talking about Ratchet?"

"One of the components of that viral collar causes any Wild to revert to their personal coloring, rather than that of their organic alt." The medic vented and treated his leader to a weary look. "It was a way to identify all Wilds, even if their alt was the same size as naturally occurring creatures, leave them nowhere to hide. And it's not like the Decepticons made it subtle or painless either."

"Slag."

"I agree with Ironhide."

Wildstrike just kept pacing until a loud snap and a crackle of electricity came from the collar, making him yip and stumble. The last of the natural coloring faded away and left the Wild with a much paler shade under the accumulated dirt and grime.

"Frrrrrack."

"That's as good a summation as any. Are you all right, Wildstrike?"

Shaking off and sending a small cloud of dust flying he treated the Autobot leader to a small nod. Obviously he wasn't all right, but things could certainly be worse.

"Hey Wild, want to wash off in the racks?"

Four mechs and a Wild turned to stare at the gunner. Before this he had made no moves one way or the other regarding the base's newest occupant. Bluestreak just shrugged under the scrutiny.

"I mean, when something goes wrong for me sometimes just cleaning up a bit can make me feel better."

The tableau held for a few moments before Wildstrike smiled and gave a small nod.

"I'd like to help if you don't mind." Hound treated Bluestreak and the Wild to a grin. "After all, it can't be easy to operate a hose with no thumbs."

Wildstrikes optics went wide, ears perked forward before a startled bark of a laugh came out of his mouth. Huffing slightly he nodded making a 'lead on' gesture to the two mechs.

"I cannot believe you said that."

"What? It's true."

The Wild just followed after the two, huffing in amusement as the banter flew back and forth, one of them occasionally asking for an opinion.

"I was worried he wouldn't fit in."

"Pfft, Wilds are social. Any medic worth his energon knows that."

"True, but still."

"We've been kind, honest, and given 'em room to run as he needs. You treat them properly with respect, you can have a friend for life."

Optimus and Ratchet turned to the weapons expert, both slightly stunned at his insight.

"WarWolf was my melee instructor long before he even met FireFly. Better kind of mech you couldn't hope to meet. I'll be on patrol if you need me."

"Learn something new every day."

The two mechs watched as the small group vanished into the wash racks and Ironhide transformed and rolled out to the desert for patrol.

* * *

"Huh, that's interesting."

"What is 'Bee?"

"There was a new arrival at the base."

"But I thought there weren't any landfalls recently?"

"There was a 'Con actually, but he got run off by the new guy. Apparently he saved Hound from getting offlined."

"Oh! You know him?"

"Don't know. He's a Wild Spark but he's stuck in his alt and got hit by a 'Con virus. Can' talk so they've gotten him to agree to the temporary designation of WildStrike."

"Wild Spark?"

"They're like… the evolutionary step between organics and mechs. Or that missing link for you humans."

"Oh, ok. I'm assuming he's as smart as the rest of you though?"

"Right, though some bots would try to convince you otherwise. Anyway Optimus wants us to go up and meet the new 'bot as soon as we're able."

"Umm, I have that test Friday, and mom wants me at that dinner thing. Would Saturday morning be soon enough?"

"Should be. I'll comm. Optimus and ask."

"Ok, thanks 'Bee. You need anything?"

"Nah, I'm good, goodnight, Sam."

"Night 'Bee."

The garage lights turned off as Sam closed the door behind him. The only light left was the moonlight coming in the window and the glow of the Autobot's internal readout.

-Just a few more days until I know.-

One last sensor sweep of the neighborhood and Bumblebee let himself slip into recharge.


	7. Comforts

"Well now, that's.."

"Don't say it."

"What? I was just"

"Don't say it."

"Well you have to admit that"

"You want a new dent in your helm?"

"Hmm, well that's a fox of a different color."

Optimus didn't understand why his medic was groaning with his head in his hand while his weapons specialist laughed.

Some days it was just better not to know.

* * *

"ACK!"

"HEY! Watch it!"

A yip came from the wash racks as a rather changed Wildstrike bounded out. A good scrubbing had taken off the grime accumulated from…. well no one really wanted to guess the bot had a good cleaning, the bot itself included. Now the fox-transformer was a pale gold fading to white on its belly with dark indigo spotting. Oddly enough the facial markings were the same as a grey fox's, just in the bot's own colors. The grin on his face matched his stance, pure mischief.

Then Hound and Bluestreak walked out.

"What happened to you two!?"

The bots looked down to see the familiar forms of Robert Epps and Will Lennox. Both looked rather amused at the sight of the two dripping mechs and the grinning (dry) wild.

Hound stood a bit straighter even as he accepted one of the oversized towels they kept from Bluestreak. "Lesson one when helping a Wild wash up, make sure to stand at least 30 feet back before allowing it to shake off excess water. The results speak for themselves."

Bluestreak just grumbled under his breath as the humans laughed.

* * *

 

"Hey guys, is that one of Wheeljack's drones?"

The rather loud growl that followed that question had Cliffjumper backing up.

"You really need to pay attention. This is Wildstrike, he's a Wild Spark."

"Oh, why didn't he just say so?"

"Can't, viral collar."

"Um…"

"Maybe you should sort out your questions later."

"Right, bye guys."

Bluestreak and Hound watched as the red mech hurried over to the communications room.

"Ever get the feeling you've fallen into the Pit and the Unmaker is laughing at you?"

"Yup."

"Recently?"

"Only when that Con was staring down his gun at me."

"Point. So, what now?"

"'Strike?"

The Wild had been following along, content to listen to the banter and feel the sun on his pelt. It was good to be clean again!

Granted, that meant there was now an excuse to come back dirty. Those two were really good with scrubbing.

And why were they looking at him?

"Any particular place you want to see? Perhaps some energon? We'll figure out a way for you to enjoy some if you'd like."

Perked ears and the tail flying had Hound laughing and Bluestreak wondering what was going on until the info was comm'd to him.

"Energon it is. Any ideas on a way to make it accessible to 'Strike? The cubes won't work while he's stuck."

"Hmm, baby pool?"

"That… actually might work. At least for size, let me comm. Ratchet."

Wildstrike followed along, amused as ever.

* * *

The humor from the wash racks had kept Epps going full tilt most of the day. He was strongly reminded of when Will tried to help him wash his sister's St. Bernard.

"What's that sound?"

The assembled ARMY regulars looked around d the massive hanger trying to figure out where the low humming noise was coming from.

The hangar was divided into sections for the Autobots to use, partially to help keep things separated, partially to curb data-pad avalanches from claiming unwary victims.

Optimus' 'office'section had reinforced walls just to be safe.

Epps spotted a rather amused looking Ratchet eyeballing a corner of one of the empty sections.

"Ratchet?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know what that strange humming is?"

Ratchet smirked, usually a worrisome expression, and pointed into the Autobot sized cubicle.

Once he got a clear look, Epps couldn't help smirking himself.

Curled up in a corner, paws on either side of the large dish, Wildstrike lapped up glowing energon, tail tip flicking a bit, optics shuttered, and a look of contentment on his fox-face.

"That good, huh?"

The wild didn't even bother turning an audio towards them.

"It's been a while since he's had any at all I wager, and a full tank does wonders for one's mood, regardless of species."

As if to prove the point Epps' stomach chose that moment to rumble loudly.

The humming sound stopped as the wild looked up, head cocked like a confused pup with a look of amusement on his face.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going. "

"And Epps?"

"Don't worry, I'll drag Will along too."

The wild chuffed before going back to the metal coated baby pool of energon.

When Ratchet added another few gallons without being asked, Wildstrike decided he might just like the medic after all.


	8. Flipside

This was stupid.

There were no Ferals left, Megatron had found and offlined them all. End of fragging story.

Scorponok grumbled and moved further under the sands of the Nevadan desert.

Time to see how deep that sensory equipment went.

* * *

 

Hook frowned as he continued to repair Ravage. He wasn't 100% sure that a Feral had done the damage, but he was sure enough he wouldn't bet against it. Slag he was willing enough to bet what line had sparked the fragger that did this.

It took him two days to get the cat-mimic's leg reattached properly.

"How much longer?"

"At least another day. The communications system is tricky and the way it was ripped off left all the connections in tatters. It took me half a day just to sort out which wire went where in there!"

"When we get the shell of this… alleged Feral, tear it apart for spares. It did the damage it can Pit well help fix them."

Starscream growled to himself as he stalked off, still venting about the bot that managed to badly damage two of his soldiers.

Hook almost pitied the bot, only dulled by the fact that he was still fixing up Barricade and Ravage. The repairs were extensive and painful.

Starscream was nothing, if not thorough in his revenge.

* * *

 

He didn't know what had happened, or when it had gotten so bad.

No, on second thought he did know when it started.

That virus.

They had both caught a 'minor bug' while at the academy and seemed to get over it soon enough with a little treatment from the medic on call. Being his paranoid self his firewalls and protections were only outstripped by the academy heads, and even then sometimes his were better.

Some of the mechs that got it went back to normal in a matter of orns. He assumed they would as well.

The personality shifts weren't that big a deal. Not really.

Only, now they were getting worse.

Through everything they stuck together, always within a solar system of each other, short distance for their kind. A thought and their minds could connect, separate but coexisting.

The beginning had been bliss before the war.

Now it was just a trial.

They'd never ignored him before the War. They'd never dismissed him out of hand, never just glanced over him when he asked for help, an idea, or even just company when things had gotten too hard.

Now it was as if he were a lost spark, simply drifting through and only noticeable when they wanted something from him.

As much as he hated being alone, he was starting to hate being here more.

He wondered how much longer he could stand to stay.

* * *

Bluestreak wasn't really sure what to make of his easy acceptance of the new bot. Wilds weren't common before the war, let alone on his part of Cybertron, but they fell in easily enough. And he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with his usual speed-babble. He was content to just ramble a bit on his actual thoughts as Wildstrike just walked in silence next to him.

And Strike was just amusing as Pit.

"So how bored are you?"

Strike gave him a look before moaning and flopping on to his back, legs straight in the air and glossa poking out the side of his mouth.

Thanks to Hound's data packet he actually knew what that meant.

And was understandably tested not to blurt out laughing like a fool.

"Alright then. I need some practice on the long gun range. Don't know how interesting it would be for you, but you're welcome to come."

Strike gave a happy yip and followed along, apparently just happy not to be staring off into space.

Bluestreak didn't bother hiding his laugh this time.


	9. Not Sorry At All

"Hey Strike."

The wild yipped and trotted on over to the waiting mech. In the past few days it seemed he got along well with Hound and Bluestreak. Cliffjumper was nearly the victim of a Wild bite for a rather crass comment, but beyond that everything seemed to be going fine.

"Hey Bluestreak, I've noticed you call him 'Strike now when you used to call him Wild."

The other bot shrugged, a rather useful human gesture they'd all picked up after a few weeks.

"It didn't seem to fit, and Strike does. I asked and he prefers it too, so I just went with it."

"Ah. Any of the others get in yet?"

"Mirage is en route, Sunstreaker is due back tomorrow, and 'Bee will be in first thing in the morning after that with Sam."

"I'm thinking we should probably restrain Sunny from doing something stupid."

"His twin's here. They give us enough grief, let him deal with his brother."

"You are devious and I like your thinking."

Wildstrike yipped and hopped up.

"I think that means 'ditto'."

"'Ditto'? You've been hanging out with Epps too much."

"Maybe."

"Oh hey, there's Ratch."

The Wild stopped and looked over to where Hound was pointing. All right, the medic was with the human female, Sarah, and the little one, Annabelle. No cornering the fox-bot today. Ha!

Wait a moment. What was….

Hound noticed Wildstrike suddenly go still, ears perked and twitching.

"Strike?"

"What is it?"

Neither bot could move to stop him as the wild suddenly lunged forward, limbs flying at full speed towards the human and child. The usually friendly face was twisted in a snarl, claws extended and tearing up the ground.

Several things seemed to happen at once, Wildstrike leapt, jaws open and claws extended, Ratchet moved to shove the Wild Spark aside, Hound and Bluestreak made a grab for the wild's legs, Sarah screamed and clutched Annabelle close to her, and the air filled with the sound of grating metal and the hiss of flying sand.

In the next moment the Autobots had stopped, Hound and Bluestreak staring in shock, Ratchet hovering over the two humans…

And Wildstrike's duranium alloy fangs firmly piercing and holding the claw of Scorponok.

The Decepticon screeched, thrashing until Wildstrike pulled the claw back and off, sending a spurt of energon over the tarmac as the limb came loose.

"Fragging Autobot scum! You're nothing but another pretender all the Ferals were killed by Lord Megatron and I'll prove it! I'm going to kill you and then those fleshies!"

Any real Feral would lose what little control it had, reverting to a Rage state and destroying anything in its path. It didn't matter, this bot wasn't a Feral. It couldn't be.

When green optics darkened and the pale coloring started to turn black along the edges he thought that it was just a trick or something with the viral collar around its neck.

It couldn't be a Feral.

It couldn't.

* * *

Wildstrike stood, staring at the 'Con. Its instincts were coming hard and fast.

_-Protect-fight-ravage-destroy threat!-_

That little human was a sparkling. The female was its femme-creator. The Con wanted to destroy the femme and sparkling.

Sparklings were precious, no matter the species.

This Con would destroy one with joy in his spark.

There was only one acceptable answer to that.

The tether keeping the Rage in check was thin and strained.

With a thought it snapped.

* * *

Autobots had come streaming out of the hangers at Ratchet's panicked comm.. He'd thought the virus had slipped his scanners and completed when Annabelle and Sarah were right in front of him.

Instead they got front row seats to the sight of an enraged Wild Spark taking down a threat.

It was hard to tell one form the other, Scorponok's coloring was usually dark, but the Rage had a hold on Wildstrike, darkening his armor-pelt until it almost matched. It was a mess of slashing claws, fangs and blades.

It was also entirely one-sided.

The scorpion mimic may have gotten a few tags in, but the wild was in a full bent fury. Limbs were torn, armor rent, one optic gouged out, the tail that had been repaired was now in four or more pieces on the ground. Twice the Con had tried to vanish underground only to be found and pinned before it could attack again. When he finally managed to throw the enraged bot off him he was less than well. More than half his limbs were gone or useless, he was half blind and he only had one claw left.

Snarling with energon dripping from fangs and claws Wildstrike circled the downed Con, looking for that last perfect opening.

Optimus made a move as if to stop the fight and pull Wildstrike back only to be halted by Ironhide. The old gunner shook his head and turned back to the fight. There was no stopping this now.

* * *

Scorponok rattled as he turned, keeping the feral in sight. He had never faced an enemy that fought back as ferociously as this one, and never as intent on his destruction. He'd had a becon on since he entered the Autobot base, letting the others know where he was in relation to the bots. Now it would make his end obvious. As the Feral closed in for the killing blow he sent off a ping to the Decepticons at base.

This was a Feral, and it was deadly.

* * *

With an enraged roar and a flash of claws the Con's last claw was removed and his neck structure destroyed. The lone optic guttered and dimmed as the Wild tore flipped it and tore through chest armor, rending the spark chamber open.

A flash of light and the fight was over.

* * *

"Dear Primus."

Ratchet had never seen anything like it in all his years as a medic. He'd heard, of course, of what a Wild Spark was capable of when in Rage, but outside the recording of WarWolf he'd never seen one fight. It was brutal and ugly and made the healer in him ache.

He watched as Wildstrike pulled back from the sparkless shell, pant-venting and favoring his right foreleg. Slowly the darkness in its pelt faded away and the dark optic brightened.

He raised his head and looked at the assembled Autobots.

Every last one of them could tell that he wasn't sorry for killing the Con.

He wasn't sorry at all.


	10. Sparkling Friend

He could hardly believe what he'd seen. The anger, the violence, that one bot was capable of was almost staggering.

But he remembered a small Wild from when he was a sparkling. All audios and peds, fast but clumsy, and his best friend. Even if his mech-creator hadn't really approved. Somehow the sparkling had always found him when he needed it, a touch, a word, an audio, sometimes just sitting together in a huddle. He was fairly certain that the sparkling, who would have been close to if not an actual adult by now, had been killed back on Cybertron. Then again, this wild had shown up out of the ether. Maybe there was hope yet for his sparkhood friend.

Taking another look around at the destruction he moved off. Best get the med bay ready.

* * *

"I need to get him to my med bay, now."

"I wouldn't suggest it Ratch."

"What!?"

The medic stopped shot, surprised when the gunner grabbed his arm and made him turn.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're too alpha. Think, he's just been in a fight with that Con, Rage over everything. You try to pull rank now he'll slip back in a sparkbeat and I don't know who the slag would make it out of that fight."

"So what the frag am I supposed to do, let him leak!?"

"You've got an assistant, right?"

The medic thought about it. He was quite, usually calm, and when he was in the med bay knew better than to try any vanishing acts or pranks. A quick comm. and everything was ready.

"Wildstrike?"

Said bot turned, actions notably sharper than usual, audios flicking around.

"If you'll come to the med bay, I have an assistant that can help you, see to your leaks and patch you up, without 'going alpha on your aft'." There was a noticeable glare to Ironhide at the last comment.

Ears flicking around he gave a small nod, carefully walking along, keeping all bots in view as he followed the head medic. His processor worked just fine.

But instincts kept him alive this long, and they were still loud.

* * *

"Think we should follow?"

"I don't know."

"I mean, if we don't he could think we're scared of him or something."

"If we do he could also see that as a challenge to his authority."

"Well, he takes after the earth creature he scanned, right?"

"Yeah."

"What would be threatening to it if it was cornered? Maybe if we can make it so we look non-threatening we could go and check up on him."

"Might work. Basics are don't look him right in the optics, relaxed or slouched posture and if he growls at you back down and look nonthreatening."

"That's it?"

"Well it's basic for any earth canine. You need to look into this stuff."

"I'm starting to, but there's a lot to cover. And you also know more about Wilds than I do."

"Point, let's go."

Hound and Bluestreak followed the procession of bots to the med bay, hoping that nothing else went to Pit.

* * *

He was surprised when the Wild showed up in the med bay. He'd heard descriptions from other bots, had brief glances as he completed his duties, but had never really run into him before now. The resemblance was striking, similar stance, similar coloring, the green optics were more a comfort than a worry, even the way Wildstrike paused and tilted his head at him was familiar.

"Hello Wildstrike, I am Mirage. Will you let me treat you?"

The wild regarded him for another moment before making a noise of assent and hopping lightly onto the exam table, letting him injured foreleg dangle off the side.

"I'll be meeting with Optimus and Ironhide, my comm's open if you need it Mirage."

The bot in question gave a nod and turned back to his patient. "I will shut down your pain receptors in the area while I'm working, that way there's no need to put you offline. Is that acceptable?"

A soft growl and a nod and Mirage got to work. There were tears and leakages, and the rather bad gash in his foreleg, but other than that it wasn't too strenuous. He was midway through repairing the interior of the limb when soft footsteps caught his attention.

"Hey, Raj. Bluestreak and I were wondering if we could keep Wildstrike company for a bit."

Wildstrike looked surprised that anyone had sought him out, especially after the display in the courtyard.

"If you don't want us here, we'll leave, but we are worried about you Strike."

Mirage almost laughed at the look of shock on Wildstrike's face, a soft snicker catching the wild's attention.

"I knew a Wild as a sparkling, I know what you are capable of and what you will do when facing a threat. I am not afraid of you, Wildstrike."

Shock vanished, replaced with a happy grin. Looking voer to hound and Bluestreak he tilted his head back and gave a small howl. The two mehcs smiled.

Then Bluestreak got a look on his faceplates.

"Ya know, we ought to be a bit mad at you, Strike."

Cue the head tilt and confused look. "Chrr?"

"Yeah, you need another bath."

He blinked, looked at himself, and back to Bluestreak, then started laughing.

"Once I'm done with repairs you can wash up again if you'd like."

He got a soft bump to his helm in thanks.

"Perhaps you two could get him some energon? I need to seal this properly and I can't do that with others in here."

"Sure. Bluestreak, you get the tub, I'll get the cubes."

"Right."

Mirage was the one to look confused this time.

"Tub?"

He got a shrug for an answer. Putting it out of mind he set about finishing the repairs.

* * *

"I am concerned, Ratchet."

"So am I, but not for the same reasons."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I'm concerned about what sorts of damages Wildstrike can cause others and himself."

"I was thinking more along the lines of how the humans will react."

"Sarah has already talked to me, and is grateful, despite the scare, that Wildstrike dealt with the Con."

"And I am concerned with how violently he reacted."

"Prime, that was mild compared to what some Wilds can do when they see a sparkling being threatened."

"Ironhide?"

"A sparkling, no matter the species is something that _must be protected_ as far as Wilds are concerned. Thankfully, that only counts sentient species or we'd be in trouble with the human food services. He saw a sparkling, Annabelle, being threatened, and did what was in his processors necessary. A threat like that can only be dealt with in one way, termination. You may not like it, but that's how it is. You were given the alpha talks from your counselors, and how to interact with them in friendly situations or talk one down from a panic. You have not been immersed in their life style like I was when training with WarWolf. As it is, Wildstrike showed admirable restraint in not loosing himself completely to the Rage and thus shredding Scorponok into less than his component parts!"

"We cannot kill every threat."

"And you won't have to, but certain threats are dealt with in _one_ way, and _one way only_. As it stands if Wildstrike had been around for the Hoover Dam fight, things could have gone a lot worse for sector Seven and the Cons. Bee's a sub-adult, we all know that, and Strike would have been able to tell it too. In attacking the children and Bee, Sector Seven would have been seen as _the_ threat, and summarily been attacked. At the end of that fight, either Sector Seven or Wildstrike would be dead, end of story."

"And a threat to a human?"

"If the human's been accepted into his pack, like Sarah and Annabelle probably have, the threat will be stopped by enough force to halt their actions, or the threat's alpha or superior takes the threat in hand."

"So he won't kill unless it's a direct threat to a sparkling?"

"And self defense, obviously. Those are the two times I can guarantee that the only way a fight will end is with termination."

Ratchet looked spark-sick with that information.

Optimus sighed, this was going to take some work to word properly to the human authorities.

* * *

The repairs were finished, Hound and Bluestreak still looking for that energon, Wildstrike sitting up on the berth, testing his newly repaired leg. Mirage was debating whether he should even ask, if it was foolhardy hope, or could he be right?

Well, the worse that can happen is I'm wrong.

"Wildstrike?"

"Chrr?"

"Did you have a friend as a sparkling? One who went by Rundown?"

The Wild's attention was fixed completely on him.

"Rundown, because he had a tendency to run down anything moving that crossed his path, including sparklings with turbo-fox alts?"

He thought he might have been mistaken when all Wildstrike did was stare at him for a few moments.

Then he was shocked to find himself on his back, arms full of happy wild, chassis thrumming with his happy purring. Mirage laughed and hugged the wild to him, enjoying the feeling of pelt rubbing against his hide.

The body was bigger, the pelt longer and a bit stiffer than what it had been, and the audios actually fitting the body, but it was his friend, his best friend from sparklinghood. They weren't sparklings anymore, both hardened by what they'd seen and what they'd lost. That long face bumped against his, rubbing their cheeks together like they had as sparklings after a race. It wasn't the same, but it was still good.

And just for now he'd bask in the feeling of getting back something he'd thought lost.


	11. Comfort With a Nightmare

"Should I ask, or just get Ratchet?"

Hound looked down at the two, amused. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Mirage smile like that. He had four cubes of energon balanced in his hands, just grinning at the rather ridiculous sight.

For a minute Mirage didn't look like he knew what to do. Then Strike whapped him on the helm and that seemed to get things going again.

"Wildstrike and I knew each other as sparklings. He was my best friend."

At that the wild made a cooing sound and leaned into his leg, making the mech snort through his facial vents and burry a hand in his pelt.

"Ah, do you two want some time without the rest of us?"

Mirage had that look again, like he didn't know what to do. Bluestreak was the one who broke the tension.

"Haven't you ever listened to Jazz lecture Prowl? There's no rule saying you have to have only one best friend."

He got a bump to his hip from Wildstrike as he moved around, nosing at the tub the mech held.

"Just a moment, let me get in the door first, then Hound can fill it and I'll leave you be for a while."

Strike growled at him.

"What?"

Without further warning he pounced, pushing the mech into the room and pinning him in place.

"I think you forgot something, Blue."

"What? What' I do!?"

"You don't have to have just one best friend, right?"

Wildstrike bopped the confused Bluestreak on the nose with his paw.

And really, who wanted to argue?

* * *

Several hours, many races, a bath and at least two full tubs of energon later, the main sight in the courtyard of the Autobot base was four exhausted mechs.

"I haven't been that tired without a battle in a long while."

"Same here. It's actually…. rather nice for a change."

"I think Wildstrike conked out."

Three heads turned to look at the curled up ball of wild. He certainly didn't look threatening now, curled in a ball, nose tucked under tail, audios flopped a bit down and making soft noises as he vented.

"Hound?"

"Yeah?"

"I still say you've been around Epps too much."

Mirage barely managed not to snicker at the look on his friend's face.

"Wow, looks like a really huge fluffy bagel."

Speak of the devil. Bluestreak was the first to find the humor reference and stifle a laugh, Mirage not too far behind.

"Ratchet sent me out to tell you he wants Wildstrike to recharge in one of the actual chambers in the med bay. Didn't really care how it happened, so long as it does."

"If Strike doesn't want to go, I'm not going to force him."

"Same here."

"Ditto."

"Well, at least wake him up and ask him, he's blocking one of the bays for truck deliveries. At the very least we need him to move."

Hound and Bluestreak looked a bit at a loss as to how to wake the wild and not get bitten or smacked.

Mirage grinned, leaning over and gently scratching the sleeping bot between the audios.

"Mrr?" The head popped up, optics mostly shuttered and ears flicking around half heartedly, he certainly looked like a sleepy fox.

"Ratchet wants you to sleep in a recharge chamber. There's one big enough for a huddle if you'd like, since I'm due for a recharge myself."

"A huddle?"

Strike and Mirage turned to look at Hound, one still obviously not fully awake yet.

"When we were little, Wildstrike and I tended to pile up on each other after racing and fall into recharge."

"Ah."

"Sorry, can't go with you guys, I'm due at the communications desk in about 20 minutes."

Wildstrike, who had by this time wobbled to his peds, toddled over and bumped against the mech, making a soft sound.

"Enjoy your recharge Strike. I'll catch up with you later." With a wave Bluestreak was off to clean up a bit and get ready for his turn at the desk.

"Well, Hound are you doing anything?"

"I'm actually due for a recharge myself."

"Well, if it's ok with Strike you want to pile in with us in the big chamber?"

"Sounds good to me. This ok with you, Strike?"

The bot made a sound of agreement before trotting towards the med bay.

"Not a morning mech, is he?"

"Pit no. If he's recharging, better to let him stay that way unless he knows you. Otherwise you can lose a limb."

Snickering, the mechs started towards the med bay and the recharge chambers.

* * *

"Hey Bee!"

The yellow camero in the driveway flicked its headlights once, signaling that Bumblebee was awake and listening.

It had taken wheedling, whining, pouting and some rather stark logic, he'd even unleashed the Puppy Eyes, but it had paid off. The sun was still up, school had let him out early and he had a surprise for one of his best friends.

"Bee, how soon did you want to get to the base?"

"As soon as you're willing and ready."

"Well, how about now?"

Sam grinned as he pulled his backpack from the front door.

"What about that dinner? And the test?"

"I was able to take the test early this morning, think I gave my teacher a heart attack too, and I begged off dinner. Mom had called and gotten me home early so I could pack and surprise you."

"Sam, you shouldn't have done that, family is important."

"Yeah, and while you're here guarding me, you're away from yours. I know that you miss being around the others and you constantly do what has to be dull, boring stuff just to hang around with me and Mik. More than once, you've just hung around with me when I'm pretty sure you'd rather have been with the other Autobots, or at least wanted to add their company to the mix."

He thought he'd been careful, hidden some of the longing he'd had to see the others since they'd landed, talk with friends he hasn't seen or heard from in vorns.

"Sam..."

"Don't worry about it Bee. Let's just go so you can meet this new guy. I can sleep during the ride or crash when I hit the human quarters."

Bumble felt a warm pulse in his spark as Sam settled in. His human charge may not know it, but the gesture meant the world to his guardian.

* * *

"Slagging, Pit-spawned glitch!"

Starscream was in one of his worse moods, tearing apart drones and trashing anything not nailed down.

"I want this…. _abomination_ found!"

"So we hunt it and destroy it?"

"No."

The insane glint in those intense red optics had every Decepticon present frozen.

"You hunt it, bring it back here."

The grin was chilling in its intensity and its complete lack of sanity.

"We will make that Feral pay for every single bit of trouble it's given us before it begs to be offlined."

In the back of the room, one mech watched and waited for his chance to escape.


	12. Just Like Old Times

Ratchet looked into the recharge chamber taking up one full corner of his med bay and snickered.

Hound and Mirage were in their usual positions, curled up facing each other, slightly endearing but not really anything to laugh over.

The third addition sprawled over both of them like Annabelle's blanket, however, certainly was worth the humor.

"Think it's time to get them up?"

"Mirage warned against it."

"I survived having you patch me up. I think it will be all right."

Ratchet moved back a step and allowed the gunner to open the latch for the chamber.

"Alright you three, time to get up."

One hand was moving to prod the Wild on the flank, a second later he wondered what glitch caused him to miss the movement.

"YEOWCH!"

Mirage and Hound sat bolt upright, shaking off the dizziness that accompanied waking to a sight that had them wondering if someone was playing a colossal prank on them.

Wilstrike was sitting on the floor, looking rumpled and disgruntled, Ironhide was hopping in place, holding one hand with rather deep punctures on it and cursing while the CMO was off near the door, laughing his aft off.

"Ever get the feeling you missed something?"

"Well I did warn them about trying to wake him up."

They grinned, saving that memory file to be shared en masse later.

* * *

"Wildstrike, if you're agreeable we would like to do some benchmark testing. Things like speed and flexibility and the like."

The hackles that had started to rise at the mention of testing lowered again.

"For basic medical purposes, we try to make sure that all repairs are done with the full knowledge, or as full as it can be, of a mech's operating systems and abilities, to make sure there are no losses in function that can be avoided."

A considering nod and an accenting noise, Optimus continued.

"Flexibility can be done whenever you like, strength against a mech of similar size, perhaps Sideswipe or Hound, and Mirage has offered to race you for the speed measure."

Audio tips perked up at the mention of racing and Optimus couldn't help a small smile even as he wondered just how many sides this new mech had.

* * *

"Just like old times, isn't it?"

A happy yip was Strike's response as he trotted alongside to the designated starting point.

"Alright, the plan is for me to get about a half a mile ahead, and then you try to catch up."

The wild nodded and hunkered down. Mirage recognized it from their days as sparklings. He really hoped his friend had been slacking on speed training, but he doubted it.

A hum, a shift and a blue and white sports car took place of the mech. He revved his engine, eyeing the course Ratchet wanted him to run and took off.

A few seconds later he heard the sound of peds chasing after him, the cadence fast and sure. With an internal grin he revved his engine again and accelerated, the pounding of peds on the ground increasing in suit.

_Time to see if you can still keep up, old friend_.

* * *

"Amazing."

"He should have reached his limit, but instead he shifted his stance, somehow lengthened his stride and is still keeping pace!"

"How fast is he going now?"

"Mirage reports that he's going just over 200 mph now."

"And Wildstrike is keeping perfect pace!"

"Tell Mirage to turn back and accelerate to his top speed. I want to see if Strike can keep up."

The mechs in the courtyard watched as Mirage turned, circling around before heading back the way he'd come and slamming on the accelerator, limiters off. In response Wildstrike leaned hard into the turn, clumps of dirt and sand kicking up from claws gripping the earth. On the back spin something seemed to shift and his pace lengthened even as it tightened, his head ducked down, not moving from staring straight at the accelerating mech in front of him.

Hound accessed some information he'd gleaned from the internet as to what that could signal. The answer he got made him shutter his optics. "Uhoh."

"What?"

Bluestreak stood at his side as they watched the wild whip past after Mirage.

"Something tells me that Mirage is going to get pounced."

"Huh?"

* * *

His speed was clocking at 300 mph and climbing. This was like the old days before everything went to Pit.

He wondered if Wildstrike still…

CLANG!

Yup, he did!

* * *

"Oh, for the love of Primus!"

Ratchet stood, helm in his hand as Ironhide laughed and Optimus' shoulders twitched suspiciously.

Mirage was pinned to the ground by the slightly smaller Wild Spark, laughing and kept pinned as Strike's tail worked at tickling him mercilessly. The normally reserved, nigh arrogant, mech giggling like a sparkling was a sight that had no small number of bots wondering if perhaps Ratchet should check their processors over again, just to be safe.

* * *

Sam smiled as Bee drove down the highway towards the base. Eager as he was to get there he still adhered to the speed limits.

That was his buddy, always looking out for him.

"Hey Bee?"

An inquisitive chirp came back over the radio.

"Think this new friend of yours might like the wash-and-wax treatment?"

The yellow Autobot's engine stalled for a moment in surprise.

"Sam, are you offering what I think you're offering?"

"Well, human-'Bot relations is what I'm supposed to be getting into, right? Might was well start the good will campaign. I'll extend the offer to the others too. I can't do all of them, obviously, at least not by myself. But I did get a thick stack of carwash coupons so if they don't mind me pretending to drive I can take them through that nifty new place downtown."

Sam laughed as Bee's engine revved and the seat snugged around him in his version of a hug.

Bee's spark was light as he zipped down the highway. Only one thing could possibly make today better.

And he'd know if that was true soon.


	13. Murphy's Other Target

This was ridiculous. The fragger knew for sure now that that last landing was a Feral and still he blamed them for his screw ups!

Scorpinoc was dead, he could have been as well if he hadn't decided to run. And it's not like he fled first, Soundwave had a slagging good lead on him the whole way back to base!

At least he was repaired. Ravage still had to get his audio put on properly and the communications link up reestablished. Soundwave was _not_ happy about that.

A blip on the sensors revealed the yellow Autobot scout out on his own heading towards an abandoned military base.

_At least I can work out some of this frustration._

"We're approximately 10 minutes from base, Sam. Sideswipe sent me a comm. We might see the new 'bot out here rough housing with Hound, Mirage and/or Bluestreak."

"Cool, already making friends."

"That's good. Wilds tend to be very social so the fact he's already getting along with other bots is good. Don't know how Mirage got in that mix though.'

"Maybe he was dragged. Literally.'

The scout had to chuckle at that mental image.

"There's a point. Wilds are known to be stubborn as Pit."

"Worse than Ironhide?"

"Worse than Ratchet."

Sam blinked for a few moments as that information processed.

"Slag."

Bee couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Don't worry too much, Sam. I doubt"

Bumblebee was cut off by something ramming hard into his rear fender.

"SHIT! Bee, it's Barricade!"

Cursing his inattention Bumblebee turned off his limiters and accelerated as fast as he dared towards the base, sending out an emergency comm to base as he did. He couldn't transform and couldn't eject Sam, both would end up with the human offlining permanently.

* * *

Three mechs were confused when the wild suddenly went still, audios perked forward, focusing on something none of the others seemed to notice.

"Strike?"

With a yap the bot was off Mirage and pounding a fast pace towards the main road.

"I'm getting kind of sick of missing the dialogue.'

"Move, that was a bad sound for him to make! And get used to it."

Mirage had transformed again and shot after the wild.

A sparkbeat later and two more mechs followed the stealth expert and wild spark in tearing up the terrain. Hound at least fired off a comm. to Ratchet while speeding away. Hopefully that would avoid a few dents to the helm.

* * *

"Slagit, he's jamming me!"

"What!"

"I can't get the comm. through!"

"Slag!"

CRASH!

Bumblebee did his best but that last hit was hard and at a bad angle, taking everything he had not to start flipping.

Sam shook his head, trying to clear the ringing as the sound of transforming Cybertronian drifting in from the dust cloud. Whether he stayed with Bee or not he was sure there was only one real way this was going to end if help didn't reach them fast.

* * *

Primus must be smiling on him again, finding the yellow bug and that annoying squishy away from base on their own and him with one of Soundwave's comm. blockers. Transforming he leveled his missile launcher at the yellow Camero, grinning as he let them watch their end coming.

Then he shrieked as something hit his launcher hard enough to spin him around and send him to his aft even as it ripped the weapon off.

When the mechs spotted what Wildstrike was charging at they tried to put out even more speed even as they knew they were at top speed. Wildstrike was smaller and lighter than the Con frontliner, none of them thought he'd be able to do anything other than become another target.

They were all shocked when the Wild tightened his stance, snarled and launched himself at the missile, clamping on to it with a vengeance even as his speed and mass was enough o topple the surprised Con. Barricade looked as confused as they felt to see the Wild standing there, snarling with what was Barricade's missile launcher in his mouth.

"Frag, not you again!"

Wildstrike spat out the launcher and gave a howling laugh before starting to dart in, harrying the mech. Using his smaller size and greater speed he set to tagging the Con with claws and fangs before darting back again much to the mech's frustration. The frontliner screeched in annoyance, his own claws making themselves known on the wild's hide, but nowhere near as much. Granted his armor was thick but getting slashed so much, even small wounds, were coming faster than his self-repair could keep up with. Both bots were ignoring the other mechs for the time being as none of them made a move towards their fight.

* * *

"Move, Bee! We've got this!"

Holograms popped up, replicas of the wild currently hassling Barricade. The roar of anger let it be known they were noticed. Mirage vanished, shooting from the holograms, making it even harder for the mech to figure out which was real and which wasn't.

Bee had rushed back, driving in reverse until he was behind Bluestreak. Sam hopped out as the gunner took aim at the battling duo. The two bots were moving so fast it was hard to tell what was who. Mirage and Hound weren't making it any easier either.

"Can he hit him?"

BOOM!

"… I'll take that as a yes."

* * *

Wildstrike looked around in surprise, not expecting his opponent to suddenly drop. Then he looked put out.

"Don't start about losing your toy, Strike. Mirage is going to have to patch you up again!"

For a brief moment the fox-bot turned and looked at his friend. Much to the mechs' amusement the wild then hunkered to the ground and promptly placed his forepaws, followed by his tail, over his face, and groaned.

* * *

Bumblebee watched as the Wild Spark and Mirage goofed around like old friends. The movements were familiar, the yips and chirrs.

"Bee? You okay buddy?"

Sam patted the Camero's hood before jumping back as he transformed.

Careful of his charge and the other bots he stepped closer to the Wild Spark who was now sitting up and regarding him with curiosity. Slowly he brought his doorwings up and moved them in a quick pattern, making them buzz while cooing a soft note. He tensed as the wild froze, staring at him.


	14. Not Again

His optics were off, audios fuzzed and his chassis wracked with pain. The Feral had taken a good chunk out of him and that shot hadn't been a minor 'flesh wound' either. Around him Autobots mingled, talking and some sort of odd humming.

They wouldn't kill him, he was fairly sure of that. He could feel the medic's servos on him, turning him carefully even as stasis cuffs were slapped on.

He'd find a way to repay them for this humiliation.

If nothing else he was patient when need be.

So long as it was for revenge.

Most of the mechs froze when their youngest member buzzed and cooed at the Wild.

Before the bot could get his processor working again there was a faint buzz and a bang as the downed Con managed one more shot before being put under, with prejudice, by Ironhide.

Bumblebee click-clacked in surprise as the weak shot hit him in the throat, falling on his aft from the impact.

"Bee!"

The small human rushed up, checking his friend as well as he was able to, even as Ratchet gently handed him off to Hound so he could see to the injury.

"Fragit, that slagger managed to knock lose some of the connections. When we get back to the medbay I'll look it over and make sure it's nothing serious. Though for the time being it looks like you're back to sound clips my friend."

' _Well snap_.'

"Dang, sorry buddy."

"Guess we'll have to wait to ask why you were making those noises at the Wild then."

Bee and the Wild shared a look.

Suddenly Wildstrike chattered, growled and flipped it's audio shells around.

In response Bee buzzed his wings and flicked his aerial antenna.

"What the!"

"Are they… communicating?"

"They've got to be messing with us."

The duo shared another look before looking directly at Ironhide, glaring, and raising a servo, center digit extended.

"Well, look at it this way 'Bee, it'll only be a week this time."

The bot's doorwings drooped and a sad warble came from his speaker.

"It's not like it was torn out again!"

"BBBRRRRRHHAT!"

All commotion in the yard stopped as mechs and human alike stared at the Wild.

"Umm, back on umm… Tyger Pax? Bee was guarding the AllSpark and Megatron tore his vocalizer out. The AllSpark fixed it, but Barricade messed it up again."

The yellow mech, who was a good head and shoulders taller than the wild, shrank down, seeming to try to make himself as small as possible in light of the glare the Wild was giving him.

The Wild went from staring him down to pouncing on him, knocking him back in the dirt, whacking him over the helm several times in succession before finishing off with a bop the his nasal ridge. For all that, Bumblebee didn't try to defend himself, just curl up a bit tighter, doorwings flared out for balance and waiting for Wildstrike to settle for glaring at him again, praying that botling optics might make him go easier on him.

"Did he just?"

"Yup."

"And do we know why?"

"Not a clue."

"Going to ask?"

"I have no great desire to meet Primus, thank you."

Questions would have to wait. For now the spectacle of their youngest scout, human ambassador and the wild were making in the yard was enough to distract anyone.


	15. Spark Song

After the initial 'reintroduction' Wildstrike and Bumblebee seemed to fall into an easy pattern. Mostly playing and wrestling with some racing thrown in, dragging the other mechs in when they could.

One mech though, seemed to vanish more than usual.

"Strike's down."

"How do you figure? He seems pretty happy to me."

"Yeah, about being with 'Bee, but he's still not all together."

"Missing a mech?"

"You did notice then?"

"Yup, just hoped I was wrong."

"You want to kick him or can I?"

* * *

"Almost…there!"

"What are you up to, Ratchet?"

"Just got the last configuration done for getting that collar off Wildstrike. After I fix Bumblebee's vocal processors again I can take care of that for him."

"That'll make him happy."

With a rude noise from his facial vents the medic dismissed Ironhide and went back to work.

* * *

It was so _good_ having him back again.

_Missed you. Missed me?_

_Always missed you. Got big._

_Had to. You too?_

_Kind of. More processors than chassis._

_Looks good. Suits._

A happy chirr and a rub of pelt on plating.

_Will help you too. Stored it all this time._

_Really?_

_She made sure. Stored safe waiting for right spark to open._

A hug of arms around the wild and a happy coo.

_Did best they could, but not right._

_But best they could is still more than most._

_Yes._

_Your pack?_

_For growing? Yes._

_Now?_

_Pack you Always. Spark-bond. Only spark-kin left._

_And them?_

_Pack of friends._

_Make Pack with us?_

_Some yes, some no. Optimus' Pack first._

_Share hunt-brothers?_

_Yes!_

_Will work. Already have some._

_Two Packs? More Packs?_

_Packs run together. Used to happen all the time. Long Runner Pack used to hunt with Deep Well Pack. Shining Song Pack used to sit sparklings of Night Storm Pack. Still separate, but also whole._

_Makes sense._

_Pack is smart, Pack is whole, but some Packs smaller for Kin and Kith first, then bigger for Others._

_Like hunt-brothers?_

_Yes._

_So, we're small Pack but make bigger Pack with hunt-brothers and new kin?_

_Yes. Always Pack of Two, you and me, but Pack can always grow._

_Good._

_What question?_

_Little-organics too?_

_One you brought?_

_Yes._

_Any reason not to?_

_Not long-lived._

_Pack is Pack. Smaller hunt-brother?_

_Maybe._

_Spark-brother?_

_Yes._

_Then Pack. Simple as that._

_What our Pack name?_

_Think... Long Song Pack._

_Time apart, time together, Singers-kin?_

_Yes._

_Maybe Spark Song Pack?_

_AllSpark? Your spark-brother? Singer-kin?_

_You know?_

_Yes._

_Yes._

_Like. Yes._

_Pack of Two, Spark Song Pack, Our Pack._

_Yes._

* * *

Sam watched his new best friend buzz and coo with the fox-bot and couldn't help an amused smile. He couldn't understand a word of it, but he got the gist. Family just had that feel when they finally came together again after a long time apart.


	16. Interlude on Sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You think I'm sane? Why?

Interlude on Sanity

Audios kept a keen edge on the goings on around the body. It wouldn't do to step on a comrade after all.

Once in a while he'd heard words floating from the command center, this Bot or that Con needed to have this happen. One big concern was Shockwave, the drone master and Megatron's Second.

A small smile came to his face as he thought that one over. Large, dark and mono-opticed, Shockwave had a way of instilling terror into any Bot unfortunate enough to cross his path, taking them down, or worse, capturing them before they could get themselves moving again.

Shockwave had been responsible for the destruction of Praxis and Vos and many other much smaller dwelling communities on Cybertron. Designed the seeker-virus that had pretty much destroyed their kind in mind if not in spark. The mech was arguably a genius among their kind, and most likely understood that he was helping to kill off his own race.

He hadn't cared, just wanted to take and take and take and do his insane experiments.

A shudder ran through his frame at the memory before stilling again. One of the mechs at his side made a querying note and he happily chirped back, successfully distracting the Bot, his friend, again. Under firewalls and coding he buried the memories of twisted sparkling frames and dripping energon, creator-protectors screaming in fury, rage and sorrow as their young were experimented on in front of their very optics.

Not a mech or femme had been salvageable, insane or dead by the mech's servos. He only tolerated the screams for as long as they amused or distracted him. Distracting him was a faster way to deactivation.

The Decepticon had made a niche for himself in the ranks of the former Lord Protector, buried himself well and deep.

He was almost impossible to ferret out.

Almost.

But then, they'd never really expected someone like him to get past it all. He was a survivor after all.

Survival took root programming and Made it into something unbreakable. Before the war he may have had some potential and a good chance at a bright future, but the war had forced it to its extremes. At least his mech-creator and femme-creator had done as much as they could for him before being offlined.

He wondered what the others would think if they knew he was more than a little insane. Being alone and surviving by one's self for vorns on end in the thick of enemy territory had a way of doing that to a mech. There had been nothing left of home to ground him, no kin that he'd been able to find traces of for eons, even if he knew a member might have survived the attack. And no real reason to join with any of the refugee groups that would have only seen him as a threat anyway.

No, he was insane, but he made it work for him. Insanity had taken a razor's edge and turned him into a ultimate hunting machine when the situation called upon it, separating the Hunter and the Mech in his processors until one needed to give way to the other. The humans called it MPD or something, many personalities in one body. Well, so far as he knew he only had the two, though if he learned to trust them enough he may let them check. But that wouldn't be any time in the near future. Survival meant depending on yourself and no one else, and being distrustful of all those you didn't know better than yourself.

He knew the Cons very well.

The mech's grin widened a bit.

A memory of a broken form, strapped to his own exam table, stripped apart and torn to shreds with his own tools in what the Con had thought was a hidden laboratory came to the forefront of his processors. It had taken Shockwave quite a while to deactivate, and he'd made sure he was before leaving the empty shell behind. The mech assumed his kind gone, a non threat. Pity what making assumptions can lead one to.

Idly, he wondered if anyone had found the shell yet, but was willing to bet they hadn't. Even the Cons were wary of Shockwave and no one would be sorry to hear he'd gone to the Pit.

The grin on his faceplates was open and welcoming, chattering with the two near him, even as he let the Hunter run that hunt over in the back of his processors, purring happily from the memory of the Con's messy demise.

No, the mechs around him probably didn't know he was insane and he was in no hurry to enlighten them. He was happy to be around others and welcomed instead of shunned.

Sanity was over rated anyway.

Still, he wondered how they could think him whole, when he'd fought so hard for so long….

Alone?


	17. Soft Guard

Sam watched in mild amusement as 'Bee stormed out of the medbay and started looking around for a particular member of the Ops team.

He might have been concerned had he not known why 'Bee was practically humming with aggravation. Personally, he agreed.

This was stupid.

* * *

Mirage was understandably surprised to find himself spun around from the comm. console to face a twitchy, fragged off Bumblebee.

- _Who do you think you are?-_

"What? Bumblebee, what are you talking about?"

- _Playin' pretty, tellin' lies.-_

"Bumblebee!-

- _Heartbreaker! Oohhh, love taker!-_

"What! Bumblebee, what's gotten into you!"

"I think he's fragged off at your behavior."

- _You said it!-_

"What?"

"Ever since Bee and Strike started being around each other you've vanished more than necessary."

"Nonsense."

"Oh really? Then who did I see shimmer out just as Wildstrike rounded the building yesterday? Or how the only time anyone on this base sees you right now is if there's a guarantee that Strike isn't around or you're on duty?"

"Absolutely ridiculous! I've just been busy."

- _Let's try that again, and this time, try to sound convincing_.-

"Strike has Bee. It shouldn't matter!"

"Get your head out of your aft, Mirage, it's not attractive."

Mirage watched with no small bit of confusion and hurt as Bumblebee growled his engine at him before stalking off towards the gun range, Hound moving towards the communications desk.

* * *

_You miss him?_

_Of course._

_Show him he's wrong?_

_Would he listen?_

_You are Alpha, you shouldn't have to prove that you care._

_But he is not Wild, and he is broken._

_Broken?_

_Too many hurts, too much inside._

_He should still understand._

_I will show him._

_But not be obvious?_

_I cannot be._

_Why?_

_I am Alpha._

* * *

"He'll wise up, Strike. He's just being stupid."

Bluestreak got a soft murr in reply.

They were out, away from the base without leaving the actual perimeter, nestled under a rocky overhang. He didn't know what it was, but Strike made it so the screams in his memory dimmed. There wasn't a need for incessant chatter to keep the ghosts away.

Sighing through his vents he nestled into Wildstrike's side, audio over his spark. A soft bum to his helm had him chuckling.

"You're comfy. Mind if I recharge for a bit?"

A soft humming started up right under his audio and had him nearly strutless in moments. Strike knew how to calm him and make him feel safe. Only one other really made him ever feel this safe.

The mech settled down against the wild's side, making the watcher huff in amusement.

The sun was warm, the day was clear, and there was nothing pressing.

Spending some time guarding the mech's recharge sounded just about his speed. Grumbling a bit and continuing the low hum he let his audios drift towards any sounds, content to let his processors wander as the warm dessert air lulled him.


	18. Practical and Moral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CONTAINS DISTURBING IDEAS! You have been warned!

Ratchet worked carefully, slowly on the broken vocalizer. Someday he hoped to repair it completely, but that would take years of study as Bumblebee's frame was not a standard one. His had been designed by a student of Firefly, and the engineering, if not quite the genius of his mentor, was still processor boggling at the complexity.

His processor wandered in thought trees even as his main attention was firmly focused on the patient beneath his hands. Slowly, meticulously, the vocalizer was repaired, if still fragile. Perhaps with Wheeljack he could design some sort of pliable armor to help protect the vulnerable parts.

Their youngest should not be in pain every time he wanted to speak.

Lines were sealed and plating carefully shifted back into place. That was one patient down.

One more to go.

* * *

The pile was a grizzly assortment of parts, if you knew what you were looking at. A claw, armor, chunks of what had been a wicked tail, and a nearly complete vocalizer.

Wilds were built to adapt, to survive where others would be lost. When worst came to absolute worst and supplies, fuel, everything was dwindling, a Wild could take what it needed from a fallen mech.

WildStrike grimaced, eyeing the gruesome pile. The idea was… unsavory at best, vile at worst. But instinct told him this was the fastest, and most assured way, to recover.

And he needed to recover.

WildStrike had a Pack to protect again.

WildStrike had a purpose beyond mere survival.

WildStrike finally had others to care for, something he had yearned for since he was separated from his sparkbond when they were only sparklings themselves.

Pulling a chunk of claw and armor close his maw opened, fangs beginning to glow along razor edges to better slice through the thickened hide.

Scorponok had done little good for others while online.

Best his parts were put to use to aid those still living. Forceful redemption and all that.

When pushed to their limits, Wilds could, would, become cannibals.

The first bite down, WildStrike consumed the parts of his fallen enemy.

* * *

On a high ridge more than a mile away, Bluestreak deliberately turned his sights away.

Most mechs would be horrified, vilify the being slowly devouring the remains of another.

Bluestreak understood.

The fall of Praxis had pinned him under rubble early in the assault, rather than later as almost all Autobots assumed. They hadn't found him hours after he'd been trapped, it had been days.

Another mech had fallen with him, spark casing damaged beyond repair, and he had talked gently with the mech as he faded to the Well. He would have died too had he not shoved morals aside for the sake of practicality.

He understood survival.

He would protect WildStrike in this way.

And he'd personally target anyone that went after him for doing what he needed to.

* * *

Ironhide was often written off as a mech more about his guns than his processor.

He liked to shock mechs once in a while with a snap of sharp wit, or an unexpected observation.

He eyed the pallet that held the un-scavengable remains of Decepticon drones, parts and scrap metal.

There was a lack in that pile.

A small shift and no one else would know.

WarWolf had taught him everything about what it meant to be Wild and held nothing back.

No one would miss the scrap from the heap.


End file.
